


Love Where It Wasn't Supposed to Be

by timetoboldlygo



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, im not making her a villain here, jack and kath are together for most of this but worry not i like kath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 23:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetoboldlygo/pseuds/timetoboldlygo
Summary: It had always been Jack and Crutchie against the world. Crutchie had gotten used to that, but Jack has Katherine, now, and Crutchie - Crutchie just needed to put some space between him and Jack. So it would hurt less. (He really can't be blamed for doing a poor job).





	Love Where It Wasn't Supposed to Be

**Author's Note:**

> my first and most likely only newsies fanfic. i just spent a solid two months rewatching the musical over and over and relieving, like, 2007 when i first saw this film
> 
> title is from "i found" by amber run

Crutchie sold sixty-seven papers the day the Strike ended, which would have been good any day and he only worked a half day. He had _coin_ in his _pocket_. That ain’t never happened before, even if he was a good seller.

He’d put money down that Race was already at the racetracks, and maybe the rest of the boys were at Jacobi’s, but Crutchie headed back to the lodging house, taking his sweet time, fingering those coins in his pockets. He didn’t know what to do with them. He needed a new shirt, which he’d never bought in his life. Even this shirt was a hand-me-down, though the sleeve had been torn off. If he was smart, he’d save them, for the next time things weren’t so good. Always was a next time.

“Ay, Crutch!” Someone yelled. Albert. “Sell your papes?”

“Gone before noon,” Crutchie said as Albert caught up to him. “Folks sure did miss reading bad news.”

Albert threw his arm around Crutchie’s shoulders. “I’m gonna treat myself,” he said longingly. “A whole sandwich with all the toppings.”

“Get an extra pickle for me.” He _was_ pretty hungry now that he thought about it. “I’m heading back to the house. I needs to sit down.”

“I’ll go with ya.”

“I don’t need no help.”

“You just got outta the Refuge,” Albert pointed out. “You’se still got a giant bruise on your face. Think you might just _be_ a giant bruise.”

Crutchie laughed. It was true. “Fine,” he said, and Albert fell into step beside him. Occasionally he’d dart off to look at something or flirt with a pretty girl, but sooner or later, he’d swing back around to Crutchie, letting him know everything that had gone on while he was in the Refuge.

“Let’s see, Romeo got real trashed by a cop,” Albert said, “Race lost money again. Did you see the article Katherine wrote?”

Crutchie shook his head. His leg hurt real bad today. “I don’t even know what happened, Al, the governor just walked in all mad, waving his walking stick, and then we all got released.”

Albert made a face. “Ask Jack what happened,” he said. “He knows better than me. I just delivered the papers. Actually –” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a carefully folded square. “I kept one! Here.”

“You sure?”

“You know I can’t read that well anyway.” Albert forced the paper into his hand. “I’m gonna go by Jacobi’s and get a sandwich. Pickle for you.”

“Thanks, Albert,” Crutchie said. He just wanted to get up to the rooftop. He missed it more than anything, after spending even just a few days locked up in the refuge. He couldn’t breathe in there, not at all. And his back still ached, and his leg, and sure it had been a real good day, but it would be better when he got up on the roof, in the breeze. Maybe catch the sunset.

He’d need help getting up there, this time. Usually he could do alright by himself climbing the ladder, but he couldn’t reach his arm up above his head too well, on account of his entire back and chest hurting like hell.

Crutchie was proud, but not stupid. He wasn’t gonna fall to his death because he was too stubborn to get a little help. Maybe Jack would be back.

With luck, Race was running a poker game in the lodging house. Probably because it was too hot to be outside, maybe because he’d missed the best races at the track.

“Deal ya in, Crutch?”

“Nah.” Crutchie shifted on his crutches. “Jack back?”

“Think he’s with Katherine,” Race mumbled around his cigar. “Saw them around the park after I was done selling.”

Crutchie blinked. Right, Katherine. He was mildly ashamed to say he’d forgotten about Katherine. Shouldn’t have, considering she was the reason Jack was still around. He’d just still assumed that Jack would be around. He bit his lip for a second then forced himself to say, “Help me up to the roof then, Race?”

Race jerked his head up from his cards and stared at Crutchie for a second. “Sure.” He put his cards face down on the table. Elmer threw a balled-up piece of paper at the back of Race’s head with perfect aim and Crutchie snorted as he followed Race out the window to the fire escape.

“Right behind ya,” Race said, accepting the crutch Crutchie held out.

“It’s gonna be real slow,” Crutchie warned. He remembered the first few months after Race had come back from the Refuge, jumpy as hell and barely even wanting to be touched. Bruised to hell, too. “My shoulder ain’t right.”

Race sucked in a breath but all he said was, “Don’t worry, I got ya.”

It was an agonizing process, but thankfully, Race just kept yammering about poker and the strike and whatever he felt like. And the air did get cooler the further up the ladder they went.

“And I sold _so_ many papes,” Race was saying as Crutchie pulled himself over the edge with a huff. His shoulder was still smarting, but that view just couldn’t be beat. Race offered up his crutch and then asked, “How’s your shoulder?”

Crutchie rolled it a little bit. “Tight,” he said, wincing. “Dunno what’s wrong with it.” None of the boys at the Refuge had been able to tell beyond _you got fuckin’ soaked, huh_. One of the younger boys had cleaned off Crutchie’s back so it wasn’t bloody, and one of the older boys had popped his nose back into place, but that was all.

Race snorted. “Better let Jack know,” he said, leaning on the edge of the railing. “Wouldn’t do to have ya fall to ya death.”

“I will.” Crutchie took a deep breath in. Well, he tried to make it deep but instead he just coughed a little bit and winced more. “Oof.”

“Alright, tough guy, let me see,” Race said, sticking his cigar in his front picket alongside his cards. “Ain’t no doctors in the Refuge.”

“Hey,” Crutchie protested. “One of them set my nose real nice.”

“Everyone can set a broken nose!” That was true enough. Even Crutchie could set a broken nose. “Come on, I won’t tell no one.”

Crutchie relented and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I can’t get my shirt off with my arm all busted.”

Race reached out and helped ease the shirt off. He let out a whistle. “Christ, Crutch,” he said. Crutchie felt his fingers probing at his shoulder. “You’re bruised all over.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Crutchie joked.

“Some of these cuts are bleedin.”

“I’ll clean ‘em later.”

“You will not,” Race said, flicking him. “How you even gonna get ‘em? Hold on.” He disappeared over the side of the roof again. Crutchie heard him land with a metallic thud against the fire escape. When he appeared a few minutes later, he had a curtain in his hand and one of the younger boys had a bowl of water.

“Did you just steal that right off the window?” Crutchie called down.

“You bet,” Race said. The kid followed, carefully balancing the bowl so that only a tiny bit spilled over the edge. “OK, get lost, Louie, thanks.” Louie looked a second at Crutchie’s bruised chest and his eyes got big and round. He was only ten, probably, and Race nudged the kid a little bit to get that look off his face. “He’s fine, Lou.”

“Just some bruises,” Crutchie said gently. “Race is gonna fix me up real good. The Refuge ain’t gonna get any of us now. Just – go back in.”

Louie blinked three times, really fast, and then shimmied down the ladder so fast Crutchie could have sworn he just disappeared. Race blew a raspberry with his mouth.

“Sure hope I’m gonna fix you up.” He brandished a shirt and thoroughly soaked it with the water. “This is as clean as I got. Hold still. Least you don’t need no stitches.”

For a while, it was silent on the rooftop, and the sun kept dipping a little bit lower. None of the cuts on Crutchie’s back hurt too much, and he was more than a little tired, and it was easy to lose himself staring at the sunset. “You’re all clean,” Race said eventually, putting the now bloody shirt down. “I’m not too good at it, but I can wrap up your ribs with this, in case the bruisin’ means they’re broken.”

“Sure.”

“And don’t go sellin’ too hard tomorrow,” Race said, carefully lifting Crutchie’s bad arm. “Christ, do I sound like Jack or what?”

Crutchie sighed. “He’s gonna be mad when he sees all this.”

“He’s such a mother hen,” Race agreed, then he sat back. “Okay, you’re all done.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“I mean what I say, Crutchie, if your ribs are broken you shouldn’t be walkin’ that much.”

Crutchie shrugged his good shoulder. “Gotta make a living somehow.”

Race rolled his eyes. “It’s yer own funeral,” he said. He took a deep breath in as the last bits of light disappeared behind the skyline. “Shit, it’s beautiful up here. You want me to stay with you?”

“Naw.” He wanted breathing room. “I’m alright.”

\-----

Crutchie was almost asleep by the time Jack clambered up to the rooftop. He was stretched out on his side, shirt off. He didn’t want to sleep on his bad shoulder, but that meant he was sleeping on his bad leg, but he needed to choose one. He was watching the flickering lights on the roof across the way.

Jack was quiet, but he still said, “Crutchie?”

“’m awake,” Crutchie mumbled, and felt Jack sit on the lumpy mattress beside him. “Hiya Jack.”

He could tell the second Jack saw the wrappings on his ribs, too, because Jack made a little choked up upset sound. “What the hell is all this?”

Crutchie forced his voice to be even as possible. “We weren’t sure if the bruising on my chest was from broken ribs or not,” he said. “I never had them before, so I dunno. Race wrapped it up for me.”

“That from the Refuge?”

“The one and only,” Crutchie said, and then Jack’s hand started carding through his hair. Maybe Jack was thinking it was the only part of Crutchie that didn’t ache.

“And you’se sleeping on your bad leg why?”

“They messed up my shoulder, too, and I figure that one’s more likely to heal.”

Jack’s hand stilled for just a moment. “Oh,” he said eventually; then, because Jack had never been good at hiding his feelings, he said in a very quiet, broken voice, “Crutchie, I’m so sorry.”

“It ain’t your fault,” Crutchie said, looking up at him. He looked quiet and broken too, not at all like he’d just been out having a grand time with his girl. “I couldn’t run, and it was better me than any of the kids, anyway.” He never expected anything bad to happen, but considering his leg? He always did consider bad things happening to be a big possibility. Positive thinking, sure, but he knew going into a riot was dangerous. Of course he did.

“It shouldn’t a happened to anyone!”

Crutchie reached out with his bad arm and clumsily patted Jack’s knee. “I’m okay,” It was even mostly the truth now. “Just tired. Real glad to be back here.”

“Me too.”

“Go to sleep,” Crutchie said. “Got a whole day of work tomorrow.”

He’d meant for Jack to go to his own side of the roof and sleep, but instead Jack lay down beside him, fingers tracing the bruise on Crutchie’s jaw. Crutchie stared at him, and Jack stared back, but eventually, Crutchie was tired and clearly Jack wanted to stay. His eyes closed.

\-----

He woke up before the morning bell, as was his habit, and grateful for it, for once. It seemed a shame to wake Jack up. Jack too had the shadow of a bruise around his eye, but he was so peaceful and beautiful in sleep. Over the night, they’d migrated apart from each other, on account of how hot it was, but it still reminded Crutchie of how they’d sleep under a thin blanket in the autumn, when it was just cool enough that the body heat helped but not so cold that they’d freeze.

“Jack,” Crutchie whispered.

“Bell ain’t rung yet,” Jack mumbled, lifting a hand and swatting it. He didn’t even come close to Crutchie, so he sure wasn’t close to awake.

“I need you to help me down, though,” Crutchie said quietly.

Jack’s eyes immediately opened. “Why?”

“Can’t a guy ask for help?”

“You don’t, usually.”

Crutchie wrinkled his nose. “I can’t reach above my head too well,” he admitted. Maybe he was too tired to just keep lying to Jack, or he was too achy, or it was too early. Either way, he admitted it. “And don’t you go feeling guilty about it, ‘cause out of the two of us, it’s hindering me more.”

Jack let out a short laugh. “Fine,” he said, sitting up. His shirt was all wrinkled and his hair was sticking up.

Crutchie reached out and smoothed it down for him, like he always did. In turn, Jack helped Crutchie get his shirt and vest over his shoulders, tied his shoes, and propped his hat on his head, none of which he usually did but was kind of necessary.

“Only do a half today, Crutch, please?” Jack said once both of Crutchie’s legs were safely on the fire escape. The lodging house was a mess, the way it always was in the mornings, and it was quickly emptying.

“Aw, Jack –”

“Sell with me, then,” Jack said as they clomp down the stairs. “Come on, I don’t want you carrying no papers with your shoulder like that.”

Crutchie relented. “Okay, but only because you won us a strike.” And because his shoulder already ached from climbing down the ladder, even though he went slowly, even though he’d had Jack’s hand on his back the entire time. He wasn’t saying anything about his bum shoulder though.

They were a tiny bit late to getting papers, but the line had started going through. Davey was already perched up against one of the wagons, reading, Les peering over his shoulder.

“Good headline?” Crutchie asked. He could already feel sweat dripping down his back – it was almost August.

Davey grinned. “Some guy got assassinated,” he said, holding out a pape. “President of Santo Domingo.”

Jack snatched it and scanned the headline. “That’s real good, even if I can’t pronounce this dude’s name,” he said, grinning, passing the paper over to Crutchie. “I’m gonna gets in line. You, sit.”

“Yes, Mother,” Crutchie said, easing himself down next to Davey.

Davey gave him a look. “So you aren’t doing that well?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Crutchie said.

Davey shrugged and folded up the paper, but Les leaned over his shoulder and said, “But you let Jack go get the papers.”

“Hush up,” Davey told Les, who crossed his arms and stormed off in a sulk. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Crutchie said. “Just hurt me shoulder in the Refuge, can’t carry the papes none too well.”

“You know you can count on us, we can spare a dime –”

“Oh, don’t you be doin’ nothing,” Crutchie said. “You got your family to take care of. I been taking care of myself for years, this ain’t the worst that’s happened.”

“That’s not really reassuring –” Davey started to say, but then Jack was walking over with their stack of papes, and Davey very wisely shut up as Jack offered a hand to help Crutchie up.

Crutchie hadn’t sold papes with Jack in ages. When they were both truly kids, they’d sold together and Crutchie would look very pitiful and small while Jack sold papers to “help feed his little brother.” The act had worked pretty nicely until Jack got sent off to the Refuge. When he’d come back, Crutchie had the crutch and everyone was calling him Crutchie instead of Charlie and he didn’t want to sell papes with Jack anymore.

Funny enough, the same routine worked now, especially with the bruises on Crutchie’s eyes and the swelling around his nose.

“How many papes ya get?” Crutchie asked, when their stack was running a little low. He’d been taken small manageable stacks throughout the day to sell, wandering a little farther down the path and then wandering back when his stack was gone, but he couldn’t quite match Jack. Jack was just too good at telling a story.

Jack counted quickly. “One fifty. We oughta sell together more often.”

“I don’t need no one takin care of me, Jack,” Crutchie said. “Gimmie some more.”

Jack obligingly handed Crutchie a fistful more of papes and he headed off down the path, meandering around the pond for a bit where it was a least a little bit cooler. The breeze, at least, was real nice.

When he finally wandered back to Jack, Katherine had found him, and the two of them were sitting on one of the park benches.

“Hi, Crutchie,” she said.

“Hi, Katherine.” Jack stood up and steered him towards the bench before he could even try and sit on the curb. “Jackie, your motherin’ is getting real old.”

“It’s ‘cause I knows you don’t take care of yourself,” Jack said. “Where we gonna be if your back gets infected, huh?”

“It’s just bruises and scrapes!”

Katherine leaned over and peered at him closely. “If I wanted to publish a piece on children’s institutions, including the Refuge, even though I know it’s been closed down, would you let me interview you?”

“See!” Crutchie pointed at Katherine. “ _Katherine’s_ actually helpin’, you’re just fussin’ around!”

“Hey, you could interview me too,” Jack said.

Katherine waved him off. “You’re old news, Jack.”

Jack sputtered even as he tried to stop himself from laughing a little bit. Crutchie tried to stop himself from laughing too, because he knew if he started, he’d just start coughing, but he couldn’t help himself. He managed to keep the coughing to a minimum, thankfully.

“There _is_ a girl’s refuge, too, but it hasn’t closed down, I don’t know that the matron is as cruel as Snyder,” Katherine was saying to Jack as Crutchie got his breathing under control.

“Gonna change the world, are ya,”

“Well, you changed the World,” Katherine pointed out. “Why not me, as well?”

“I got faith in ya,” Crutchie reassured her. “But maybe not tonight, eh, Kath?”

“Sure, next time,” she said, and wasn’t it nice, how she just accepted it, while Jack squinted at him.

“Your shoulder hurtin’?”

Crutchie leaned over to Katherine and whispered, “Thinks he’s my ma.” Katherine covered her laughter quite nicely as Crutchie stood up, adjusting his vest. “I’m fine, Jack! Just heading back to the lodging house now that we’re out of papes. Nice to see ya, Katherine.”

“Same to you,” Katherine said.

Crutchie gave them both a wave but he only made it maybe ten steps before Jack yelled, “Hey, wait up!”

Crutchie turned to see him give Katherine a quick kiss on the cheek and then catch up Crutchie. For a second, Crutchie was elated at being first. Then he came to his senses. Just because he was injured didn’t mean he could go swoonin’ about over Jack Kelly.

“What you doin,” he said, gesturing towards Katherine. She didn’t look very surprised that Jack was ditching her on this fine evening to escort Crutchie back home. “Go and be with your girl, Jackie, you don’t need to walk me back home. Ain’t me you’re wanting to kiss.”

Unfortunately.

“Fuck off,” Jack grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I’m tired of her.”

“Aw, Jackie, I’m serious, I know you like her. I know you wanna spend time with her, so go! I’ll get someone to help me up to the penthouse and you can come back later and check on me, if you’re so worried.”

“Crutchie – “

Crutchie stopped walking, and Jack was so surprised by it he actually kept walking a few more steps and had to turn around. “Jack, don’t,” Crutchie said seriously. “Go walk with Katherine.”

Jack made a face just for a split second like he was hurt. Usually, when they had this sort of exchange, Jack would pretend to be very relieved and give a smile that would fool most anyone but Crutchie. He’d pretend like he was just thrilled to not have to take care of him.

It took him longer this time to pull the illusion together. “I’ll just, uh, see ya later then.”

“Thanks,” Crutchie said, then he turned away.

\-----

His crush on Jack wasn’t exactly easily manageable, but it _was_ easily shoved down, way down far, so far no one could ever touch it, including Crutchie himself. It did have a habit of rearing its ugly head every once and awhile.

Crutchie blamed the Refuge. Ain’t nothing to think about in there but what you’re missing outside, and for Crutchie, there weren’t nothing more important than Jack. To be released and then to turn around, hoping Jack would stay, and see him kissing Katherine -

It was almost cruel that Jack should find his match in Katherine while Crutchie was in there. Crutchie had known one day it would happen, of course, that Jack would finally find a girl he liked to take round for more than just a few weeks, but it hadn’t happened yet. Crutchie had hoped, kind of meanly and selfishly, that Jack would put it off for forever.

And Jack and Katherina were a nice pair, they were. They were both handsome, and passionate. Caring. Crutchie could see just from the way Jack treated her that he liked her, liked her a lot.

Crutchie didn’t quite think it was jealousy, because he knew it was never going to be him. This was inevitable. It was just – the end of wistful thinking, that’s all, and Crutchie should have tried harder to move on, get over it, ‘cept for the fact that Jack just made him so happy.

Crutchie resolutely pushed it back down for the better part of the night, joining some of the boys at Jacobi’s. It was familiar to ignore, even when Jacobi kicked them out to set up for dinner and they moved to the lodging house, even when Crutchie sat down for a round of poker which Jack came back in the middle of, laughing and red-faced.

“Deal ya in, Jack?” Crutchie asked, holding up the cards. He and Race were teaching some of the younger kids to play card games – well, Race was teaching, Crutchie was dealing. He wasn’t incredibly good at it, but he was the best at it.

Jack threw himself on to one of the beds near Crutchie. “I’m good. Should we be teachin’ children to gamble?”

Both Race and one of the younger kids, Louie, flipped Jack off. Crutchie and Jack both laughed.

“Take it up with the president,” Race said around his cigar, tossing a button into the pile. “I’m winnin’ here.”

“Congratulations on your massive earnings,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. Race flipped him off again. So much for teaching children bad manners.

“Did you have fun with Katherine?” Crutchie asked, because he apparently hated himself.

Jack beautifully, painfully lit up. “Yeah.” Crutchie started dealing the cards so that Jack wouldn’t see his hands shake. He sounded so soft when he talked about her. “We talked about, uh, me doin’ those political cartoons.”

“For Pulitzer?” Crutchie checked. Jack nodded. “D’ya wanna?”

Jack shrugged. “I think so,” he said, leaning a little close to Crutchie so that no one else could hear him. Race, over on the other side of the table, waggled his eyebrows at Crutchie while Jack couldn’t see. Crutchie wanted to murder him immediately.

“You don’t sound sure.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I am,” he very obviously lied.

Crutchie narrowed his eyes and was about to say something, but Race tossed a button at him and it bounced off his cheek.

“You’re doin’ a real bad job of dealin’ cards, Crutch,” he said, picking up another button and studying it like he was thinking about exactly where he wanted to hit Crutchie this time. “You paying attention at all?”

“You ain’t that high on the list of things I’m paying attention ta.” Crutchie waited until Race made a shocked, mock-offended face and aimed right for his mouth. As Race was spluttering and trying to spit out the button, Crutchie stood up, dropping the cards.

“You can deal then,” Crutchie said. “You ain’t even winning that much!”

Race made another face and then quickly scooped up the entire winnings pile and tossed it at Crutchie. Most of it ended up hitting Crutchie, Specs, Jack, and Albert, even though he was half asleep on one of the bunks.

“Hey!” Albert said, throwing a pillow randomly. It hit Specs, which was vaguely the correct direction.

“I yield!” Crutchie yelled, laughing, as Specs launched the pillow back. He pulled himself out the window, a button sailing past his head as he did. Jack was right behind him.

“This is what happens when you let children gamble,” Jack said, trying very hard to be serious. He gestured for Crutchie to start climbing.

“I’ll be sure to tell Race that he’s just too _young_ to play poker,” Crutchie called down, and Jack snorted.

Once he finally, finally got up to the rooftop, wondering just a little bit if the fresh air was really worth it (it was), he sat down on his mattress and groaned.

“Lemme check your back,” Jack said, and Crutchie was proud, but not stupid, so he agreed.

“I don’t think it’s too bad,” he said, because Jack hadn’t seen it yet. Jack made a vague noise and continued unwrapping the curtain. “Race said it was mostly just bruises. I think I felt a scab split this afternoon but I think the rest is fine.” He was babbling.

Jack was quiet a long moment. “It’s not bad,” he said eventually, and he sounded so grateful Crutchie was near embarrassed.

“Way to scare a guy,” Crutchie mumbled.

Jack huffed out a laugh. “Just the bruises are turning yellow.” Crutchie felt his fingers prod at one, carefully “I think Race is right, I think you’se got some bruised ribs. I’m gonna wrap you back up.”

“Thanks,” Crutchie said. “Okay, now that I’m not dying –” Jack groaned, clearly already know what Crutchie was going to ask. “Why don’t you want the job?”

“That’s not what I said,” Jack countered. He slowly lowered Crutchie’s arm, now that the wrapping was done.

“It’s like pullin’ teeth to get you to say anythin’,” Crutchie said impatiently. Jack rested his chin on Crutchie’s good shoulder, his fingers tapping anxiously on Crutchie’s knee.

Jack was quiet a long moment and they just existed there for a minute, two boys on a rooftop in the sunset, “I dunno, it’s a little scary. I’m no political genius, I just draw what I feel. But – it’s two dollar per cartoon.”

Crutchie twisted around to look at Jack, incredulous. “You ain’t sure if you wanna spend an hour a day drawing cartoons that makes you the same dollar as an entire day of work?”

“I said I’m doin’ it,” Jack said crossly. “I just never been nothin’ but a newsie.”

“Mores the reason to leave,” Crutchie muttered.

“I’m still gonna sell the papes,” Jack said, sitting back. Crutchie wiggled around on the mattress until he was facing Jack, whose face was one part nervous and two parts excited. “I ain’t leaving you or any of the boys behind. I’m just also gonna be drawin’. It’s just new, Crutchie, that’s all, and I’m don’t think I’m goin’ ta be very good at it.”

“Why not?” He clumsily patted Jack’s hand. “Jack, you’re a good artist! You don’t hafta be a politician to understand how the politicians affect us, do you?”

“It’d help.”

Crutchie snorted. “Don’t ya think you deserve this?”

Jack shrugged and looked down at their linked hands. “Don’t every newsie in that lodgin’ house deserve it?” He countered, and Crutchie could see his point, a little bit, but then, Jack had always carried around guilt that no one placed with him. He created it for himself.

“No one blames you,” Crutchie said, wanting to remove some of that guilt. “You went through the most with the strike, getting everyone together, making sure that we didn’t break our backs just to eat the same amount as always. And besides, doesn’t this help all of us? You can bring attention to our problems and you can spot a kid six cents so that he isn’t sleeping on the street, and those are good things, aren’t they?”

Jack always gave the younger kids six cents of they needed it, but now he’d be able to do that and still eat that night. “I guess.”

“This is good,” Crutchie said. “Real good.”

Jack hummed. “Thanks for making me go out with Kath tonight,” he said, throwing his arm carefully around Crutchie’s shoulder. “It was real nice.”

Crutchie carefully made sure his face didn’t show a single emotion, even though it kinda hurt to hear. “No problem, Jack.”

“She’s so smart,” Jack said, because he was obviously not aware of anything, really.

It felt uncomfortable and bad to have Jack’s arm around him, like it meant something, while he spoke about Katherine, the lovely girl he was seeing.

He slowly rolled his shoulder a bit until Jack’s arm fell off. “My shoulder still hurts.” It was true, but he hated saying it, because he never said things like that, and now he was going and being weak because he couldn’t just be okay with what he and Jack already had. He had to keep going and wanting more.

“Christ, sorry,” Jack said, retracting his arm. Then he gave Crutchie a look. “It’s that bad?”

“Only when you put your heavy arm on it,” Crutchie said, though they both know Jack hadn’t put any weight on him at all.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Okay,” he said, even though it wasn’t.

Later that night, back on their separate mattress, Crutchie decided that he really needed to stop letting Jack do this. Jack probably didn’t even notice, because they’d known each other so long and he was a touchy-feely kinda guy. It was Crutchie’s fault for allowing it all the time. Crutchie was the one who craved every hug, hair ruffle, or arm around his shoulder like it meant something more than best friends.

But it didn’t. He’d need to get used to that, _especially_ now that Jack had Kath. It would just hurt them both.

\-----

It was summer, so it was easy to pass off as the sticky summer heat. He couldn’t give up Jack helping down the ladder yet, but soon his shoulder would be better, and it would be fine.

And summer was summer. Hot, lazy. Race lost money, as always and one of the boys in the house sprained his wrist, and a piping problem meant the water was off for three very unfortunate days. Jack sold with Crutchie for the better part of two weeks, until his shoulder was good enough to handle carting around papes again. The bruises were almost gone, too, and Crutchie could breathe again.

And, late in August on a particularly hot day, Crutchie climbed up to the roof to find Jack and Katherine, heads bent together and talking quietly. They both lifted their heads and looked at him, and he was so glad it was dark so neither of them could see his cheeks turn red.

“Sorry!” He made to take a step down and instead hitting the top of Romeo’s head.

“Hey!” Romeo cried, flicking Crutchie's good leg.

“Don't get in me way, then,” Crutchie told him. To Jack and Katherine, he said, “Sorry. Uh, again. I'll get a bed inside tonight.”

“Me and Kath were leavin’ anyway,” Jack said, reaching over to help Crutchie up. Romeo tossed up the crutch before he was ready and Jack narrowly avoided getting hit in the chin. “Hey!”

“Sorry, lover boy!” Romeo called, sliding down the ladder.

“It's no big deal, I got six cents,” Crutchie said. Though it was wonderful up here tonight. The breeze was a little crisp with the promise of fall.

“No way,” Jack said, shaking his head. He held his hand out to Katherine and helped her down the ladder. For a second, the only thing Crutchie could hear was the tap of her steady feet against the ladder. “You sleep better up here anyways.”

“You act like I'm gonna die of plague any minute,” Crutchie mumbled.

“Can’t take any chances,” Jack said, winking at Crutchie before sliding down the ladder to follow. Then Crutchie was alone. It was unfortunate, to say the least. It wasn’t that the rooftop was necessarily special, to Jack. Lots of the boys had come up here for a breath of fresh air. It was a little special to Crutchie, but only by association. Because he shared it with Jack.

It was an unfamiliar reminder that now that Crutchie was better, Jack would be with Kath more and more. He’d stubbornly stuck close the past few weeks, insistently selling and helping, but Crutchie could raise his arm now.

He could breathe now. And soon Jack would be making himself a little scarcer, be annoyed that Crutchie was around, and he deserved that. A little space, to let him and Kath grow. And Crutchie needed it too. He needed – he needed to be a little further away. Maybe it would hurt less.

So he paid the six cents and got a bed in the house.

It was too early in the year for him to be doing this, he knew that, and he knew that’s why Race and Albert and Specs were all giving him funny looks. Race and Albert left well enough alone, just let him take his bed, but Specs pulled him aside and asked if everything was alright.

Crutchie propped his crutch up against the wall. “Sure it is.”

Of course not.

Crutchie missed the breeze, but no one had ever said he wasn’t stubborn.

Maybe half an hour after lights out, long enough that the chatters and whispers had died down, Jack came through the window. “Crutchie?” Crutchie did the noble thing, which was to pretend to be asleep. “Crutch?”

“He’s asleep, Jack,” Specs called quietly.

“He in here though?”

Specs was sitting up now. “Yeah, he got a bed.”

“Why?”

“Dunno,” Specs said just as softly. Crutchie could see them outlined against the window, could see how Specs was pulling at Jack not to go further into the room. “Just did.”

“It’s not even September yet.”

“Jack,” Specs said. “I don’t know. He just got a bed.”

“But-”

“Jack, go back to sleep.” Specs gave him a little push. “You can talk to Crutchie tomorrow, but he was asleep before lights out.”

“What-” Jack said, but then Specs forced him out the window.

\-----

Avoiding Jack would be hard enough. Avoiding him just enough so that he didn’t have time to make Crutchie fall in love with him all over again, avoiding him just enough that they weren’t alone together, avoiding him so that he had just enough space with Katherine? Now that was hard.

But Crutchie and Jack weren’t selling together anymore, so that was half the day gone, and sometimes they’d eat together at Jacobi’s and then Crutchie would disappear into the lodging house, somehow, without explaining.

Jack knew him too well, though, and he knew something was up. He kept asking about it, too, because Jack had never been subtle in his life. He was actually spending less time with Katherine, on account of how much he kept pestering Crutchie.

Crutchie didn’t say nothin’, because how can he explain that they both need the space, or Jack will be stifled and Crutchie will get his heart broken? How can he explain that if they don’t spend time apart, it’s going to hurt more when they have to become two separate people? They couldn’t pretend they haven’t been living in each other’s pockets for eight years, closer than best friends; Crutchie couldn’t pretend that everything is going to be just fine forever.

If it wasn’t Katherine – and it will be Katherine, of course, but even if it wasn’t, it would be some other beautiful, fiery, passionate girl. Crutchie should have forced them to have space long before this, back when he realized he was in love with his best friend, but he hadn’t and couldn’t because he was just so damn happy to be around him, so damn happy to have every touch.

He was paying for it now. Paying for it slowly and painfully, because the separation hurt a lot more now than it would have three years ago, and the six cents to stay in the lodging house wasn’t pleasant either.

And the way Jack looked, every time Crutchie made excuses, or brushed his arm away – just for a second, he looked more upset that Crutchie had ever seen him. And Crutchie found himself avoiding Jack more and more so that they never overlapped at all. He allowed himself five minutes in the papes line all joking around so that he didn’t even have to talk to Jack, really, then they separated, and then Crutchie went to bed early.

So no, none of it was fun, and everyone kept prying, asking him what was wrong, why he was sleepin’ inside, did he and Jack have some sort of fight?

 _Nothin’s wrong_ , Crutchie kept saying, and it was true enough. Sometimes what was necessary was painful. Like when whole grassland prairies burned down and grew back stronger than before. With some space, Crutchie would burn out his love and then they could just be friends and Jack could be happy and Crutchie could just be happy _for_ him.

\-----

It had been two weeks of sleeping inside, and Crutchie relished the fresh breeze on his face as he waited in line for his papes. Jack kept glancing at him from the head of the line, and usually Crutchie would go over to him, but then there was the whole avoiding thing and then also Davey called him over.

“Hiya, Dave.”

“Hi,” Davey said, folding his paper up neatly. He didn’t waste any time at all. “It’s not really any of my business but you and Jack-”

“You’re right, it’s not your business,” Crutchie said as pleasantly as he could manage.

Davey snorted and tucked the paper under his arm. “I was going to say that if you’re still fighting with him, you can spend a few nights at my place.”

Crutchie blinked at him. “You serious?”

“Yeah,” Davey said casually. “I don’t know what you’re fighting about, but Jack just keeps walking around like guilty is his middle name, so I figure it’s his fault and if you need a break to get your head screwed on straight, then – yeah, we can put you up for a few nights.”

“It’s not really Jack’s fault,” Crutchie said.

“I thought you said it wasn’t any of my business.”

Crutchie gave him a light thwack with his crutch. “I just don’t want you goin’ around thinkin’ that he did anything bad,” he said. “He didn’t.”

“But you’re avoiding him.”

“Not - not _really_.”

Davey narrowed his eyes, but mercifully didn’t say anything, even though Crutchie was sure he was too smart not to know what was going on. “Okay,” he said. “Do you want to stay tonight?”

“Thank you,” Crutchie said. “That would be – that would be really nice.”

\-----

Davey’s parents were lovely and they insisted on feeding him. “I’m fine,” Crutchie kept trying to say, but they weren’t having it. They gave him his own bowl of soup, which Crutchie could not remember the last time someone had done for him.

“Nice to finally meet you,” they said, giving him some bread. It was nice and warm and almost cloying, because Crutchie didn’t have a family like this. It was like when he was under a blanket and it was too warm but he was too sleepy and comfortable to move. He liked it.

“Jack talks about you a lot,” Sarah said, as they washed dishes. He’d forced her to let him help with that, at least.

“It was really nice of you to let me stay,” Crutchie said.

Sarah nodded sagely. “Davey said you’re mad at Jack.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Crutchie protested. “I’m not mad at him!”

“Seems like you are,” Les called from the bedroom. Crutchie groaned.

“I’m not,” he told Sarah, who shrugged. “I’m not!”

“Seems like you are,” Davey said, entering the kitchen. He grabbed a few dishes and started drying them, stepping around Sarah so easily that Crutchie could tell this was always their job. “When you’re tired, Crutch, you can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No I can’t.” He flicked some sudsy water at Davey, who laughed and ducked. “I won’t be takin’ your bed, no way! I’ll sleep on the floor, I’m used to it.”

“But –”

“And I’m not really still injured, so no excuses.”

Davey frowned. “What if we _both_ sleep on the floor?”

It was such a ridiculous idea that they did that. It was warm enough that most of the blankets were cushioning instead of covers, and it was nice and dark, even though Crutchie could hear Les snoring a little bit.

“Sorry about Les,” Davey whispered.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Crutchie whispered back.

Davey was quiet a minute. “Is it my business now?”

Crutchie snorted. “It’s not.” He shifted around under his sheet to get a little more comfortable. “I actually feel kinda bad, you know, ‘cause Jackie is my best friend.”

“Then why are you avoiding him?”

Crutchie was silent a long moment, trying to find the words. “I rely on him too much,” he eventually settled on. Davey was smart, if he wanted to, he’d know what this meant. “He ain’t gonna be around forever.”

“Yeah,” Davey said. “So you just, what, want to ruin your friendship instead?”

“I’m not,” Crutchie protested.

Davey snorted. “You aren’t doing it any favors,” he said, and he reached out clumsily and patted Crutchie on the shoulder. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“Thanks for letting me stay.” Crutchie tried to put a lot of unsaid secret thanks into the words, so that Davey would know how much this meant.

\-----

Crutchie was sure Davey was regretting putting him up after a few days, probably because they hadn’t solved the bed problem and so they were both still sleeping on the floor. “I’ll be outta your hair tomorrow, Davey,” Crutchie whispered, once Les started snoring.

Davey rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow. “Do I get to know what this is all about now?”

“No!” Crutchie said. “I can’t believe you pretend to show me kindness and mercy only because you wanted gossip!”

Davey buried his face in his pillow trying to hide his laughter as Crutchie swatted at him. “Sorry.” He was clearly still laughing. “I just don’t know what you _want_ from this.”

“I told ya,” Crutchie said. “I need to stop relying on Jack.”

“You don’t, though,” Davey disagreed. “You don’t let him.”

“I don’t let no one see me let him,” Crutchie corrected. “I dunno, Davey. It feels less like I’m getting abandoned this way, you know? Even, uh, even if Jack’s ignoring me now.”

He pretty much had stopped talking to Crutchie or bothering him since the morning Crutchie had walked through the gate with Davey and Les. Mostly just sometimes glancing at him with a completely unreadable expression. It hurt more than Crutchie had expected it to, considering this was what he wanted.

 _Did I want this?_ He argued with himself. _I just wanted to fall out of love with him. I just wanted to let him be happy_.

Still felt like he was losing his best friend.

“He’s not-”

“He is,” Crutchie said firmly. “Guess he always wanted a little more space.”

“Crutchie, you nitwit, you know Jack’s not talking to you because he thinks you’re upset with him and he wants to give _you_ space.”

Crutchie had not known that. “Oh,” he said, face heating up. Maybe Davey could see the silly grin that was on his face too, but he didn’t care. “No, I didn’t know that.”

Davey wrinkled his nose. “I know you like him, Crutch.” His tone was carefully neutral. It could mean a number of different things and Crutchie was grateful for that. “But I don’t think you’re fixing anything this way, are you?”

“I guess not,” Crutchie admitted. Mostly it just hurt for a lot of different reasons.

“You wouldn’t _believe_ how hard it was to convince him to do anything after you got locked up and then that bribe-”

“What bribe?” Crutchie asked, suddenly wide awake. Davey shut up. “Davey!”

“I probably shouldn’t say,” Davey mumbled. “Don’t think Jack would like it.”

“Davey, _what bribe_?”

“Go ask him about it!” Davey was loud enough that Les’s snoring faltered for a second. He rolled over, pulling his sheet over his shoulder. “Good night!”

\-----

Crutchie found Katherine around eleven the next morning. He hadn’t gone looking for her specifically, but he’d hoped to find her here. “Morning, Katherine. Buy a paper?”

She laughed and handed him a penny, took her pape. The normal exchange.

“So,” Crutchie said. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

She didn’t look _that_ surprised, so either Crutchie wasn’t subtle or she was a really good reporter. Probably both. “Step into my office.” She gestured towards the bench nearby. Crutchie dropped his papes next to him.

“So, Davey mentioned somethin’ to me about whats happened when I was in the Refuge,” Crutchie said. “But he wouldn’t tell me the whole thing. Figured maybe you would?”

Katherine blinked. “Can I hear what he mentioned first, before I agree?”

“Davey said something about a bribe,” Crutchie told her. “Something about me being locked up, and a bribe.”

“Oh,” Katherine said, which wasn’t encouraging. “I don’t know, Crutchie, don’t you think you should ask Jack?”

“It’s about me, though. You’re not gonna keep a secret about me from me, are you?”

“ _You_ should be a reporter, for how sneaky that was,” Katherine said. “ _Fine_. But only if you promise to talk with Jack afterwards. He keeps saying you’ve been avoiding him.”

Crutchie spat in his palm and held it out. It was an easy promise to make; he’d already decided while lying there, on Davey’s floor, that he couldn’t keep this up and he didn’t want to. It hadn’t even been that good an idea in the first place, he was just a little desperate

Katherine shook it. “Well, after you got taken away, it took us ages to find Jack,” she said. “He was really upset, Crutchie. He was willing to give it up, just because of that. You should have heard Davey stand up to him, talking about how quitting wouldn’t do you good, how we should throw a big rally to finish things off.” She smiled. “You know, it worked, well enough, but my father really is – he’s good, you know?”

“Can’t say I do, never met the guy.”

Katherine rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “He offered Jack a lot of money to speak against the union at the rally.”

“Jack wouldn't sell us out for money,” Crutchie scoffed.

“No, he didn't,” Katherine agreed. “My father has spies everywhere and he's very good at reading people. He said that as tough as Jack was, it wasn't right to let you or any of the others suffer.”

Crutchie studied her face. She looked a little miserable. “He said more than that.”

“He said it wasn’t right to let you specifically suffer in those conditions,” Katherine said. “And Jack was already worried like hell about you. I think - we thought you might die in the Refuge.”

“I'd have been fine!” Maybe it was a bit of a lie, but it always was. A lot of newsies were fine, just fine, because what else could they be? It had been tough, in the Refuge. Crutchie hated being locked up, more than anything. Couldn't even see the damn sky through the bars on the window. Maybe he had thought he'd die. That was just life.

“Were you?” Katherine just let the question hang between them while she looked him in the eyes. Crutchie didn’t know what she was looking for, but he guessed she didn’t find it, ‘cause she leaned back and said, “It doesn’t matter. Jack didn’t know if you were gonna be fine.”

“I think he'd have a lot less problems if he didn't have such a stupid big heart,” Crutchie said, which he'd told Jack dozens of times. It never failed to make Jack laugh, and it didn't fail to make Katherine laugh. “Thanks for telling me, Kath.”

\-----

For the first time in almost two weeks, Crutchie pulled himself up to the rooftop. It was dark out, and even though Jack was sprawled out on the mattress, he was probably still awake.

Crutchie carefully made his way over. “Jack? You up?”

Jack rolled over. “Hey, Crutchie,” he said, reaching out to touch Crutchie’s shoulder. His hands were warm. “You talkin’ to me again?”

Crutchie sat down the edge of Jack’s lumpy mattress. “Why did you take the money? From Pulitzer?”

Jack froze for one second just like a statue – Boy Unwilling to Have A Difficult Conversation– then rolled back over. “I – didn’t.”

“Didn’t you?” Crutchie said. “Because Katherine told me everything. She’d know, since she was _there_.” He can guess, of course. In fact, he was pretty certain he already knew, but he wanted to hear the damn words from Jack’s mouth. “Why’d you do that, Jack? What the hell was wrong with you?”

Jack didn’t hesitate even a second before saying, “Don’t talk like that, you weren’t even there.”

He hadn’t wanted or expected to hear those words.

Crutchie sucked in a breath, trying not to feel hurt. It didn’t work very well. “Right. He stood up and tucked his crutch under his arm. “I wasn’t there.”

“Aw, come on, Crutch,” Jack pulled Crutchie back down with a thump. “I didn’t mean that, I just mean –” he was silent a second. “It wasn’t about the money.”

“Then tell me what it was about.” Jack made a face. “I think I already know, anyways.” He definitely already knew, but he wanted to hear Jack say it.

“Pulitzer threatened you!” Jack said. His fingers curled around Crutchie’s wrist, just a bit too tight with worry. “You and Davey and everyone. He has the power, you know, he could – he could have us all locked up with just a wave of his finger.”

Crutchie let out a long breath. It was one thing to know and another to hear the words pulled out of Jack’s mouth. Always that same noble reason, the same reason Jack did anything. Because he cared so damn much. “We knew it was dangerous,” Crutchie said softly, throwing his arm around Jack’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know if you were goin’ to live,” Jack mumbled. He refused to look at Crutchie when he said it, instead just buried his face in his arms, but Crutchie heard it. “Specs brought me that letter –”

Crutchie’s heart was breaking. “Oh, Jackie-”

Jack’s shoulders were trembling. “’Course, he knew about that too. Said it wasn’t right of me to let you suffer like that, no matter how tough I was. And – Davey and Les have a family – they’d never – they have Sarah and-” Jack cut off. Maybe he didn’t know what else to say, maybe he was crying.

Crutchie let out a deep breath. “Anyone ever told you you got too big a heart?” He made his voice as light and airy as possible and Jack let out a watery laugh. “I’m fine, see? Not dead at all. None a us are. We’re all better than okay, ‘cause we won, and you did that.”

“Naw, it was all Davey,” Jack mumbled.

Crutchie leaned his head against Jack’s shoulder. After two weeks of not talking to Jack, not touching him, it felt like coming home. “No it wasn’t. We’d all have been screwed if not for you.”

Jack took Crutchie’s hand, squeezing it. “You got screwed over, though,” he said, tapping Crutchie’s knuckles where the scabs were finally gone. “Is that why you were mad at me?”

Crutchie bit his lip, looked sidelong at Jack in the moonlight. “I was never mad at ya,” he said truthfully. “I was just trying to give you and Katherine some space, that’s all.”

Jack made a shocked little ‘o’ with his mouth. “Oh,” he said sheepishly. “No wonder Albert told me I was dumbed than a sack of hammers.”

Crutchie laughed. “I should have just said.” He would have, if that was what he had really been doing. “I thought you’d just know.”

“I don’t want you to stop sleeping up here just ‘cause of me and Kath, though,” Jack said. “It’s your penthouse too.”

“I’ll stay up here tonight,” Crutchie promised.

It wasn’t an agreement to stay any more than just one, and Crutchie could tell Jack noticed, but he didn’t say anything. It would be too cold to stay up there soon enough. “Alright.” He tugged Crutchie down so that they were lying next to each other, face to face. “Stay.”

Trust Jack to make it difficult so quickly. Couldn’t just let Crutchie ease back in, no, Crutchie had to lie there next to him and hear Jack’s even breathing, feel the way their feet got all tangled together. It was just like Jack. Always so passionate, always jumping into thing headlong. How could Crutchie leave him again?

So he fell asleep.

\-----

It was so easy to pretend to be normal, so familiar to lean into Jack’s touch again. Especially when, consequently, Jack did start taking Katherine out more. And it did seem to help the newsies out, again, now that Crutchie was back on the rooftop. It was though invisible ruffles that Crutchie hadn’t seen earlier were suddenly smoothed, jagged edges fitting right back together.

It was like it was easier to breathe. It was so easy. Jack fell in with Katherine almost every night and Crutchie figured out ways to keep busy. The days slowly got cooler, so it was bearable to be outside again, and Crutchie joined a few poker games here and there, started helping one of the younger boys learn to read. Things settled back into place.

Trust Race and Jack to go and undo Crutchie’s hard work. Two months later, one of them threw the first punch. Crutchie didn’t see who and it didn’t particularly matter, he just looked up at the first yell and they were already at it, Race tackling Jack ‘round the middle and landing him flat on his back.

It was after working hours and most of the boys were sprawled on the lodging house steps, cheering them on, clearly hungry for entertainment. Bets were already changing hands, bets that Crutchie promptly ruined by shoving his crutch between the two.

“Hey!” He yelled, pushing them apart. Jack and Race didn’t fight like this, not in years. They both glared at him, looks so similar it would almost be funny if it wasn’t so upsetting. Race rubbed at his bloody nose. “What's wrong with you two?”

Race spat out a mouthful of blood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nothing.” Jack didn’t even answer, just turned on his heel and started walking down the street.

Crutchie narrowed his eyes at him. “Fine,” he said. Jack was walking quickly, but not so quick that Crutchie couldn’t catch up, which he hoped meant that Jack would be willing to talk about it.

“What was that about?” Crutchie demanded when they rounded the corner.

“Nothin’,” Jack said, and Crutchie pinched him. “Hey!”

“Don’t lie, then!” Crutchie grabbed his elbow and pulled him to a stop. “You and Race is family, I know it's not nothin'!”

“He was just sayin a bunch of crap that ain't true.” Jack was pacing now, which meant he was still angry. “Sayin' that I was ditching the newsies for Kath! I ain't doing that, am I?”

Crutchie should have seen this coming. But he couldn’t fix _every_ problem. It was only natural that Jack would start to move away from the newsies, with his new work, with Katherine. But his too-big heart couldn’t leave them behind.

“You go on a lot of dates,” Crutchie reasoned, instead of saying something _like a little bit, but we all expected it_. He didn’t think that would help. “But you ain't ditching us, you's just around less.”

Jack stopped passing, apparently reading in between the lines. “I’m gone that much?”

“Does it matter?” Crutchie said. “You’se happy, ain’t ya?”

“But-”

“You like her, Jack!” Crutchie pointed out. Everyone knew it. “Of course you want to spend time with her! It don’t mean that you’re ditching us forever, it just means you get ta be happy. Look, I’ll talk to Race, okay?

“I – yeah, fine,” Jack mumbled. He still looked unsettled.

He didn’t go see Katherine that night.

\-----

True to his word, Crutchie talked to Race the very next evening. He pushed open the door to the older boy’s room, where it was just a few boys talking. “Would you mind clearing out? I wanna talk to Race.”

Henry looked at Albert, who was already hopping off the top bunk and high-tailing it out of the room. In just a few seconds, the room was empty. Just Crutchie and Race.

“Oh, we’re gonna talk?” Race said.

“Yeah, we’re gonna.” Crutchie sat down at the foot of Race’s bed. “Wanna explain why you’se goading Jack about Katherine?”

Race scoffed as well he could with the split lip and bruised nose. “It ain’t about Katherine, Crutchie, though you _would_ think that.”

“What’s that supposed ta mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been mooning over him forever and somehow you’re still too fuckin’ infatuated with him to be mad that he’s ditching you for another girl, so of course you ain’t unbiased!”

Crutchie gaped and then sat back angrily. “First of all, don’t be sayin’ shit like that,” he said, proud of how steady his voice sounded when he was _this_ angry, _this_ upset. “Me and Jack ain’t ever been like that. Don’t be _stupid_ , Race!”

“But I thought –”

“Just ‘cause you and Spot are swapping spit every night doesn’t mean that I’m gonna get some fairy tale ending with Jack.” It was kind of a low blow, but he took what he could. “It ain’t like that, and he’s got Katherine now anyways.”

Race made kind of a sympathetic face. “Aw, Crutch-”

Crutchie held up his hand. “I don’t wanna hear it.” He’d already laid too much of his soul bare to talk about it anymore. “This ain’t about me. It’s about you and Jack fighting.”

“Well, I’m sure he told you all about it,” Race said, crossing his arms petulantly.

“And since I’m the one to fix it, don’t you want to tell me your side?”

Race groaned. “Crutchie, you ain’t seen it, but he isn’t around anymore, yeah? He ain’t coming back to the house and he’s selling less papes and he’s got his fancy job - “

“He don’t think he’s better than us for that!” Crutchie said. “Race, don’t you think with how much he’s bled for this, he gets to have it easy for a while?”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’-”

“Then what are you sayin’,” Crutchie said. “Cause the way I see it, you’re mad that Jack’s getting out. Am I wrong?”

“Maybe we still need him here,” Race said quietly.

“We can’t rely on him for forever!” Crutchie said, leaning forward.  “If he wants to get a place with Kath and never come back, we’ll figure it out, but I’m not gonna kill that dream just because I like how easy he makes life here.”

“Oh, so you’ll be the new king of Manhattan then?”

“If you ain’t gonna step up and do it, someone has to!” Crutchie was sure that with the way they were yelling now, everyone in the house would hear them, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He swallowed, controlling his temper. “Race, you know I’m gonna miss him if he goes. ‘Course I will, he’s my best friend. But no one wants to be a newsie for the rest of their lives, huh? I’m never getting’ out and some of us deserve to. Why shouldn’t it be Jack?”

Race rubbed at one of his eyes. “Stop it. Don’t be smart at me, Crutch. Let me be angry.”

“You can be angry,” Crutchie said. “But don’t go takin’ it out on Jack, he don’t deserve it.”

Race sighed. “Alright, fine,” he said. “No promises, though, alright?” He hesitated. “And sorry bout all that I said about you and Jack –”

Crutchie shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He was surprised when Race pulled him into a hug. It was nice. He still had his family here, and they’d always be here for him.

\-----

It was only a few days later that Crutchie got woken up from a dead sleep, shaken away by one of the younger boys. Thankfully, the kid didn’t notice him flinch, just said something that Crutchie didn’t hear.

“What’s that,” Crutchie mumbled, sitting up. Next to him, Jack let out a jumble of curse words and rolled over.

“Race said to come get you,” the kid whispered insistently. “Louie’s sick.”

Crutchie groaned and sat up. “Okay.” He reached for his crutch, choosing to leave hat and vest up top for Jack to bring down later. “You gotta help me down.”

It was even slower in the dark, and the kid was twitchy, clearly wanting to get back to his friend. Crutchie knew the feeling – even just a cold could kill a newsie if he wasn’t careful. Crutchie knew that better than most.

Crutchie pulled himself through the window, squinting. “Who’s sick?”

“Hey,” Specs mumbled to Crutchie. His face was lit by the moon and he looked tired too; his glasses askew and his shirt on inside out. “Sorry. Said he wanted _you_ , Mom.”

Crutchie elbow Specs in the side. “Fuck off.” Specs winced, then started shooing the younger kids away from the door, telling them to all go sleep in the older boy’s rooms since _we don’t need all of you throwing up, I mean it_. “Get me some towels, would ya?”

“Chair’s to your left,” Specs said, disappearing into the bathroom. Crutchie collapsed into it and reached out and felt Louie’s forehead. Hot, but not that bad.

“Hiya, Crutch,” Louie mumbled. “I can’t – I don’t think I can afford rent tonight.”

“I’ll cover ya,” Crutchie said, accepting the washcloth Race passed him and folding it over Louie’s forehead. “Try and sleep, okay?”

“Easy.” The kid was already half-asleep as it was. In fact, it wasn’t that easy – he was unconscious, but he kept tossing and turning. Race and Specs came in every so often to check on him, and eventually, just before dawn, he managed to settle.

Crutchie got an hour of sleep, maybe, before he jerked awake as Specs called his name. “Get him to eat a few bites of this, if you can,” he whispered, passing Crutchie two soft rolls. “Race and I got you and him covered today, okay?”

Crutchie swallowed a bite of his roll. “Thanks, Specs.”  Half an hour later, when Louie woke, Crutchie coaxed him into eating a few bites, which promptly made him throw up.

Crutchie had had better mornings.

\-----

It was a few hours that Crutchie felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Jack. He had Crutchie’s hat and vest. “How’s he doing?”

Crutchie shook his head. “He can’t keep any food down,” he reported. “But his fever’s better.”

“I got you and him covered today.”

“Specs got us,” Crutchie said, which made Jack’s face twitch a bit until he eventually frowned. “What?”

Jack reached over and pulled up a chair next to Crutchie, sitting on it backwards to rest his chin on the back. “Race was right.”

Crutchie was distracted, in the middle of changing Louie’s washcloth. “That’s a first.”

“I ain't been here for you,” Jack continued. “None a y'all. I’ve been too busy with Kath.”

Crutchie groaned. “It's too early for this, Jack.” On a normal day, they’d just be waking up. “We talked about this! It’s only been a few months since you met Katherine and a month don’t change ten years of you taking care a everyone.”

“So you agree, then,” Jack said, like it was a debate and Crutchie wasn't half-delirious himself. Crutchie pinched the bridge of his nose. “I been skipping out.”

Crutchie stifled a hysterical laugh. “Race was just in a bad mood,” and that was the truth, really. “He don't care. We happy you find a girl you like, Jack. You stayed in New York for her, no one thought you was just gonna ditch her after that.”

Jack made a face that was close to a pout, but looked very handsome on him, unfortunately. “Yeah?”

“None of us think you have to be a newsie forever,” Crutchie reassured him. “It’s okay to want to be with her and plan a life with her that don’t involve us. Good, even.”

Jack huffed. “I guess it just feels like I’m failing you again.” Finally he was getting around to talking about the thing he was actually worried about. It always took Crutchie a bit of talking sense at him for him to actually say what he meant.

This was an easy one to solve. Crutchie waved a hand around. “You ain't never failed me, yous won't do it now.”

“I didn't take you to Santa Fe, though,” Jack said guiltily. “That was our dream.”

Crutchie snorted. “If you can find happiness here, that's better,” he said, unthinkingly. It was selfish of him. “Least I can still see you this way.”

“You'd see me all the time in Santa Fe.”

Crutchie bit his lip and folded the washcloth on Louie's forehead. They should probably give up this game. It wasn’t helping Jack any for the both of them to keep pretending they had a dream together. It was his dream, he could decide by himself how he feels about not goin’, without taking Crutchie into account. No sense in letting him cart around his guilt, just sabotaging himself.

“If I went to Santa Fe, sure,” Crutchie made himself say. It came out more bitter than he intended, so he cleared his throat.

“What's that supposed to mean,” Jack said. Even an idiot could pick up the bitterness in Crutchie's voice, and Jack was no idiot – he knew Crutchie better than anyone. “'Course I'm gonna feel guilty for ruining your dream. I promised to take you!”

Crutchie looked over at Jack, who looked both confused and upset. “Yeah, but it was just a laugh.”

Jack looked hurt now. “You were joking?”

“I thought _you_ were joking,” Crutchie said, shifting in his chair. He'd been sitting too long, and even as he thought it, Jack helped him prop his leg up on the bed. Even though he was mad.

Jack tilted his head, looking like a wounded puppy. “So you never wanted to go?”

“Of course I wanted to go!” Crutchie said. He wished he didn't sound so desperate and broken. “More than anything I wanted ta go, but there's just no way I was gonna get to Santa Fe. Not with my leg and my luck. I thought you knew that!”

“I didn’t.” Crutchie couldn’t figure out what Jack was feeling, maybe he was trying to keep his face blank. “So you just been putting me on, thinking I was eventually gonna leave ya?”

Crutchie rubbed at his left eye with the palm of his hand. All this time, Jack really thought they were gonna go to Santa Fe together. It’d make him happy if it didn’t make him so damn sad. “I dunno.” He'd never thought about what would happen when Jack left. He'd just thought that one day Jack would leave, and maybe Crutchie would be around to see it, and maybe he wouldn’t. “I thought you was just trying to make me feel better.”

Jack was nearly shouting now. “I wasn't gonna leave you!”

“Jack, shuddup,” Crutchie said, shoving him. “You're gonna wake Louie, he don't need that.” He sighed. “Jack, it don't matter. I wasn't making it to Santa Fe. It's still my dream, but it just ain’t ever gonna happen, and I always knew that, so don't feel guilty ‘cause of me. If you want to go still, then go, and if you want to stay, then stay, but it’s your dream, and I won't have you moping around ‘cause you thought you let me down.”

“Crutchie-”

“I don't wanna hear no more.” Crutchie was surprise to hear the words come out of his mouth. Even more surprised to found out it was true. He wasn’t that surprised when Jack actually let it go, stood up and left.

\-----

This time around it was Jack avoiding Crutchie, which seemed a cruel sort of joke. Just as it was getting a little cold, when this would be the time they’d be laughing and piling their blankets together, Jack was avoiding him.

Crutchie was less willing to tolerate it, though. He’d originally thought Jack just needed a few days, to accept the news, to process, but it had been four now and that was just too many. Jack was still up on the rooftop with him, studiously focusing on his comic on the other side of the roof. Crutchie let out a cough. Then another. He waited a minute or two then started up a coughing fit.

Jack jerked his head up. “Jesus, Crutchie, maybe you shouldn’t be sleepin’ outside tonight.”

Got him.

“Nice to see that you’re talking to me again.” He almost enjoyed the red flush that spread all over Jack’s face, even as Jack ducked behind his papers.

“You started it,” Jack mumbled.

“Yeah, and I admitted that I was stupid,” Crutchie said. “So it’s your turn.” He pushed himself up and made his way over to Jack’s mattress, forced Jack over a few inches so he could sit down. Jack was practically radiating warmth.

Jack didn’t say anything.

“If this is about Santa Fe, you really didn’t let me down or nothin’, I wasn’t – it was actually really nice to keep that dream, you know?”

“I know you don’t feel like I’m lettin’ you down, but I am.” Jack set aside his sketches. “And you don’t even blame me for it! You never do!”

“I don’t-”

“Do you remember when I got taken to the Refuge? The first time?”

Crutchie frowned, not sure where this was going. “Not really.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Jack said. “You weren’t too well, the fever was settin’ in, you must’a thought I’d just left you.”

“Not at first.” His memories of it were hazy. He did remember before the fever got to bad being told that Jack wasn’t coming back, and thinking that was silly, because of course Jack was coming back. He didn’t remember when he changed his mind, but when he woke up, one of the boys who’d been taking care of him had said _hey, you kept talking like he left you, but Jack got locked up in the refuge._ Apparently, he’d been delusional enough to yell at Jack. “But when you kept not coming back, and the fever got worse, I think so.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered, pressing his lips to the top of Crutchie’s head. Crutchie closed his eyes and leaned into it a little more easily than he wanted to admit. “I’m so sorry.”

“I was delirious.” He barely remembered it amidst the pain, so it seemed a silly thing to be sorry for. “And you didn’t, anyways.”

“Not on purpose.”

Crutchie lay his head on Jack’s shoulder. Comfortable, familiar. “Jack, it don’t matter, I barely remember it.”

“I didn’t know if you were gonna live,” Jack said sharply. “It mattered to me, okay? I didn’t know if you would be alive when I got out, okay? And when I finally got out, I go running back to the lodging house, asking around for Charlie – well, you weren’t goin’ by Charlie no more, were you?”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Jack agreed. “Everyone kept saying ‘dunno any Charlie’ and I thought – I thought you was really dead. I’d been hopin’ and hopin’ that you pulled through and you’ve always been a survivor, I knew that, but I – it broke my heart, Charlie.”

“I did survive,” Crutchie said. “I _did_.”

“I know, but - I thought I’d failed you.” Jack had the same look on his face now that he did then, when Crutchie had come clunking down the stairs that morning and found him standing there, surrounded by all the newsies. That same fragile hope on his face, like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

Crutchie understood now what that look was. The feeling that he’d given up all hope and been proven wrong. “You didn’t,” Crutchie tried to convince him. “Never have.”

“I did,” Jack said. “I never shoulda let you think I gave you up. And you never let me take care of you after that and sometimes -” he clapped a hand to his mouth like he could forcibly stop them from coming out.

Crutchie reached up and pulled his hand away from his mouth, gently lacing their fingers together. “Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes, it still feels like you’se punishing me for not takin’ care of you then.” And then he was crying, already curving forward to bury his head in Crutchie’s shoulder.

“Oh, Jackie,” Crutchie breathed, rubbing at Jack’s back. His shirt was already soaked with tears. Nearly four years Jack had been carrying this around, reminded of his failings every time Crutchie refused his hand. “I ain’t never blamed you for that.”

“I know,” Jack sobbed. His hand fisted in Crutchie’s shirt. “I know you ain’t, it’s all me, but –” his words devolved back into crying and Crutchie let him. God knew he deserved it, never crying in front of boys and always putting on a strong face, and one of the only people he trusted to cry in front of was someone who he couldn’t tell this too.

Eventually, Jack was out of tears, but Crutchie kept rubbing his back, rocking them slowly. “I never knew you felt this,” he said. “I never thought that at all. I just – I never wanted people to think I couldn’t make it. And you takin’ care of me -”

“Well, how come no ones ever thinkin’ about how _you_ take care of _me_ ,” Jack snapped, sitting up, and he might have still had tear tracks on his face but Crutchie was breathless at how beautiful and angry and full of life he was. “’Course I wanna take care of you, Crutchie! ‘Cause you take care of me right back! I can’t do nothing without you behind me and you’re the _only_ one I can talk to and no one has held me together like you have and that’s not takin’ care of me?”

Crutchie gaped at him. “I didn’t know you thought that,” he managed to say.

“’Course I do,” Jack muttered, squeezing Crutchie’s hand. “Please, Crutch. I failed you that time and you won’t let me fix it, and I promised myself I was never gonna do it again and now I know I been doing it for years, talkin ‘bout Santa Fe. I _swear_ ta ya I ain’t gonna do it again.”

“You don’t have to try so hard to fix it just ‘cause you think you messed up once.” Crutchie used his free hand to push Jack’s hair out of his face. “And you didn’t let me down with Santa Fe, I just – I couldn’t rely on you to fix it, ‘cause you won’t be around forever-” and he had a whole list of reasons, he always did, but Jack pushed past them all.

“’Course I’ll be,” he said softly.

He really thought it was simple as that. So Crutchie leaned back and closed his eyes, focused on the cool breeze and the feeling of Jack’s hand on his. Maybe tonight it could be that simple.

\-----

It was actually a surprise when Katherine pulled herself over the edge of the rooftop. Generally, Jack tried to keep her away from the lodging house if he could, even if she often joined the boys at Jacobi’s. The lodging house was a bit much for a lady.

Crutchie reached down to help her up. “Hiya Kath.”

“Hi, Crutchie,” she said, hauling her skirts over the edge. “I thought I might find Jack here, but it doesn’t look like he’s around.”

Crutchie had been under the impression that Jack was off with Katherine, “Ain’t seen him today.”

“Oh, I thought for sure he’d be with you,” she said, leaning against the railing. “You’re practically joined at the hip these days.”

“Oh,” Crutchie said guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was ruinin’ date night.” He probably should have, but sometimes he got so caught up in how much it felt like old times again, now that they had cleared the air. Back when they were kids, and nothing could stop them; before Jack started talking about Santa Fe and worrying.

“You’re not,” Katherine laughed, waving a hand in the air. “It’s nice that Jack has you.”

“Yeah, well,” Crutchie said, turning away as his face got hot.

“He was kind of a mess these past few days,” Katherine said gently. “Wouldn’t tell me what it was about.”

“Just – stuff,” Crutchie said. Very convincing. “One of the kids got sick, and he and Race got into a fight. That’s all solved, though.”

“I figured.” Of course she had. “Well, thanks.”

“Thanks yourself,” Crutchie said. “I been meaning to say thanks for telling me about Jack and Pulitzer. We needed to talk about it.”

“Did he actually?”

“Ah, you know Jack, he’s always wanting to talk about his feelings.”

Katherine turned to look at him. “He doesn’t do much of that with me,” she said, not a question but the answer to something she’d clearly been thinking about for a while.

Crutchie had just assumed he would, but he should have known it would take more than a few months for Jack to let his guard down like that. Jack was always having to be the King of Manhattan, even when he messing around with the newsies – they looked up to him. He couldn’t be talkin’ about his feelings to them. That was what he always had Crutchie for.

“Ah, it’s just ‘cause I known him so long,” Crutchie said, which was true.

Katherine shook her head. “He’s different around you.” Crutchie didn’t know what to say that, so she was glad when she added, “How long have you known each other?”

Crutchie squinted at her, caught off guard. “I was eight when we met, so eight years? You wouldn’t believe the trouble we got into. I didn’t have the crutch then, so it was easier to run away.”

Katherine turned and faced the sunset again, and she did make a pretty picture against the reds and oranges. “Crutchie, can you tell me something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you – do you love Jack?”

He knew how she meant it. Everyone in the world but Jack probably would have known how she meant it, because Crutchie was just that obvious, apparently. “’Course I do, he’s my best friend.”

“I didn’t mean like that.”

Crutchie refused to look at her, instead focusing on the sunset. “If you’se asking, I think you already know the answer. He was clutching at the railing like it was lifeline. “Well, don’t worry. I’m not gonna make trouble.”

“That’s not – I wasn’t worried.” Katherine put a light comforting hand on his back. “I just thought it probably hurt.”

“A bit.” Crutchie was trying so hard not to cry. His voice was wavering.

“I’m probably the last person you want to be talking to about this,” Katherine said softly.

And Crutchie hated that, because he did like Katherine. He thought she was just wonderful, and it wasn’t her fault she was smart and beautiful and ferocious. “Naw,” Crutchie said, looking at her finally. She was crying an awful lot too, which made Crutchie feel better. “It was always gonna be someone, yeah?”

“I’m flattered,” she managed to say around her tears.

Crutchie gave a tiny laugh. “I like ya, Kath,” he said softly. “If it had ta be anyone, I’m glad it’s you. Lots of other people wouldn’t, uh, wouldn’t be as nice about it, and you’re a really good person, ya know?”

“That means a lot.” Katherine carefully wrapped her arm around Crutchie’s waist, leaned his head on his shoulder, the both of them still sobbing. “Thank you. For everything. For not being a jerk, I guess, to me or Jack.”

“Yeah, don’t tell Jack though,” Crutchie said immediately, rubbing at his face. “I couldn’t bear it if he knew.”

Katherine was silent a long moment. “I won’t tell him anything,” she said eventually. “I promise.”

“Another reason you’re just swell,” Crutchie told her, which made her laugh through her tears.

“You’re amazing, Crutchie. Really.”

Crutchie pressed a kiss to the top of Katherine’s head, almost without even thinking about it. It really wasn’t so bad, with Kath. She was funny and she was kind, and she – she probably would never get Jack to stop hanging out with Crutchie or the other newsies, or even want him to.

Things were okay enough.

\-----

Katherine _was_ kind; she kept inventing subtle ways to let Crutchie leave early or ways to get Jack to focus on her instead of Crutchie. Crutchie didn’t know how she knew what he needed, but it was nice and Jack didn’t know what was going on. He knew Crutchie and Kath were conspiring on _something_ , but he didn’t get what the end goal was.

“I’m going to turn in,” Crutchie mumbled, tucking his crutch under his arm and standing.

“Me too, I think,” Katherine said. “Walk me home, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack said, giving Crutchie a glance that was just a moment too long before he turned back to Katherine, ready to escort her through the dangerous New York City. They left Jacobi’s at the same time; Crutchie turned left and Jack and Katherine turned right, her waving good-bye to Crutchie as Jack’s arm settled around her shoulder.

It just hurt a little bit, every time Jack threw an arm around Katherine just like he’d always thrown it around Crutchie. It was glaringly obvious that every move Jack made on Kath was one he’d made on Crutchie. Crutchie chalked it up to being touchy-feely, or being friends so long, but it hurt. It used to be just him getting that. Eventually, it would be just Kath.

He wasn’t aware of how long he’d been leaning on the railing, relishing the cool breeze. It was cold every night now, enough that Crutchie and Jack spent every night under the same blankets. In a week or two, they’d be back in the lodging house, but tonight was warm.

“You’re gonna catch your death standing there,” Jack said, startling Crutchie. He hadn’t thought he’d been standing there long enough for Jack to get Katherine all the way home and back.

Crutchie yawned. “It’s warm out.”

“Not that warm,” Jack said, draping his arm over Crutchie’s shoulder. Crutchie stiffened, but didn’t shake it off. Jack still noticed, though. “Are you mad at me again?”

“No,” Crutchie said truthfully, even though Jack’s arm was too familiar and heavy. “I’m just tired.”

“Uh-huh,” Jack said doubtfully. “Is this what you and Kath are trying to do, like, trick me into leaving the newsies or somethin’?”

Crutchie stifled a laugh. “No.” It was very funny and cute that Jack thought that. “It’s nothin’.”

“Doesn’t _feel_ like nothing,” Jack persisted.

Crutchie ducked out from Jack’s arm. “It’s nothin’!” he said again, crossing the roof to his mattress. He could feel Jack’s eyes on him. “Don’t worry about it, Jackie.”

“Why you don’t talk to me no more?” Jack said frustratedly.

“We’re talking right now.”

“No, we’s arguing,” Jack said, which made Crutchie feel like they were kids again, arguing about the best selling spots or what to have for dinner. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“I told ya I ain’t mad!”

Jack grabbed Crutchie’s elbow and turned him around. “Crutchie, I thought we were _done_ with this.”

And of course they weren’t done with this, they’d never be done with this, not until Jack left, because the only other option was Crutchie falling out of love with him and he sure hadn’t had a lot of success with that. It would always be like this.

“Of course we ain’t!” Crutchie said, jerking his elbow out of Jack’s grasp, suddenly furious. Jack gaped at him, but Crutchie kept going, needing to get all the words out before they turned cruel and nasty. “Every time you put your arm around me it _hurts_ , okay, ‘cause you don’t mean it the way you do with Kath!”

“What’s that supposed ta mean?”

“You can’t really be asking me to believe you don’t know,” Crutchie said, kind of mean, kind of desperate. He’d always thought Jack suspected and just very kindly never thought about it. Willfully oblivious. And it was nicer for the both of them that way.

“I don’t know,” Jack repeated. “What don’t I know?”

Crutchie groaned. “You _know_. Everyone knows! Don’t make me say it, okay?”

“Charlie,” Jack said seriously, looking at Crutchie with those steady eyes. “You in _love_ with me?” Crutchie shrugged helplessly. Of course he was. Who wouldn’t be in love with Jack Kelly. “Oh.”

He stood there for a second then Jack reached out. He didn’t look angry, and suddenly Crutchie wasn’t angry anymore either. They were both just sad. Matching.

Crutchie took a step back and closed his eyes, not wanting to see that look on Jack’s face – sad and knowing and guilty all at once, because he was hurting Crutchie and he couldn’t fix this.  “Please don’t, Jack.” He couldn’t handle it. “Just – go find Kath, okay?”

It was silent for a long moment, and then Crutchie heard the metal of the ladder. “I’ll be back later.” Then Jack was gone.

\-----

It was late out by the time Jack returned, the moon nearly full in the sky. Maybe he thought Crutchie would be asleep, but he wasn’t. He was sitting under the blankets, heavy and warm. “You came back.” His voice sounded dull and unenthused even to his own ears.

“Of course I did.” Jack had his hands in his pockets and thanks to the nearly fully moon, he was bathed in silver. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah.” Crutchie held out his arm, trailing the blanket with him, and Jack settled against him, tucking the blanket over his shoulder. “So you aren’t mad at me?”

Jack chuckled. “I could never be mad at you.”

“What about that time me and Race cheated you at poker and you lost all your money?”

Jack let out a small, fragile laugh. “Not even then,” he said, then, “I broke up with Kath.”

Crutchie jerked away to look at him. “You _what_?” That was the last thing he’d expected. “You can’t do that! Go back right now and apologize and maybe she’ll take you back-”

“She was fine about it,” Jack said. “She said, and I _quote_ , ‘I think I was using you as a way to annoy my father anyway.’ We’re okay.”

“I’m really sorry, Jack.” Crutchie shrunk back under the blanket and pulled his knees up to his chest. He suddenly felt very small. “Is this ‘cause of what I said? Because Kath already knew, so you didn’t have ta-”

“She told me that too. It wasn’t that, Crutchie. Or it was, but not because either of us were upset. She and I weren’t meant to be.” His hand found Crutchie’s and he twined their fingers together. “You and I were.”

“What?” Crutchie looked at their hands like maybe they were faking him out, and Jack’s hand wasn’t wrapped around his at all. His heart was pounding and he could already feel his face getting hot. He was suddenly incredibly aware of how close they were pressed together. “Jack, you’re just bein’ silly-”

“I’m not,” Jack said stubbornly. He really could be so stubborn when he wanted to. “Charlie, I been planning to spend my whole life with you. No matter what plans I made, if it was Santa Fe, or me and Kath, you was always there. I wanna be with you forever. It’s why it hurt so bad when you started ignoring me and why I was so fuckin’ happy when you came back, you know?”

“But-”

“And I didn’t even realize until you said anything, but you’re the most important person in my life, always have been.” Jack raised their linked hands and pressed a gentle kiss to Crutchie’s fingers. He was babbling a little bit, which meant he was really nervous. “You’re the only person I can be myself around and you make it all okay and -”

Crutchie let that sentence ring out across the rooftop. “You really aren’t kidding.” He could barely believe it, but when he looked at Jack’s moonlit face, the other boy looked completely solemn.

“I been in love with you forever,” Jack said loudly. No hesitation. “Always.”

“Jack.” Crutchie reached up his free hand, as if in a dream, and placed it on Jack’s jaw, pulling him a little closer. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

And if Jack hadn’t convinced him before this, Crutchie couldn’t mistake the way Jack just lit up at this, all smiling and astonished and so brilliantly happy. Crutchie had made that happen. So he leaned forward and pressed their lips together, his hand on Jack’s face, Jack’s hand cupping the back of his head.

It had always been the two of them together, and this was no different. It just felt natural, them together, the two of them against the world.

Jack tilted his forehead against Crutchie’s when they finally parted, both of them taking deep breaths. The blankets had slipped off Crutchie’s shoulders and Jack pulled them back up. “Does this mean you forgive for being an idiot?” His hand trailed against Crutchie’s shoulder. “I musta really hurt you, Crutch.”

Crutchie waved this off. He could barely even think about it now, he was grinning so much. Besides, it had never been Jack’s fault. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. I don’t know how you didn’t, but - you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to know,” Jack said. “About me, at least. I was - uh -” he looked away, clearly embarrassed.

“You can say whatever it is,” Crutchie encouraged.

“I know,” Jack mumbled. Under Crutchie’s fingers, his face was turning hot. When he finally spoke, he blurted out the words like they were trying to escape. “I was scared, okay? I didn’t want to lose you or scare ya off. I didn’t want to know I loved ya, ‘cause I was afraid of getting hurt.”

That was familiar. Crutchie had tried the same thing, to lock those feelings away and never acknowledge them, to pretend they didn’t exist. Like it might hurt less, somehow, to lose Jack if he pretended it wasn’t love. It was stupid. They were both so stupid. Crutchie couldn’t even be properly mad at them for being idiots because he was still just so incredibly happy.

“You wouldn’t have lost me.”

“Well, I know that _now_ ,” Jack grumbled, like he was a little kid. “It was selfish of me, huh,” he said guiltily, like Crutchie might judge him for protecting his heart.

Crutchie tilted his head, taking him in. “Maybe a little.” He leaned in for another kiss and Jack met him easily, so easily, like they’d been trading kisses their whole lives. For all they’d been together, they might as well have been. “But thanks for talking about it with me.”

“Always,” Jack said simply. A response Crutchie knew by heart. “You know it’s always, with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> they live happily ever after and katherine realizes she's into women! yay
> 
> this was very un-beta'd on account of i wanted to post it before the year is done .i expect it's filled with lots of errors so... lmao sorry about that! if you have any criticism about depicting disabled characters please please hit up my inbox, if i've fucked up i need to know ! i'm timetoboldygo on tumblr as well


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